Second Fiddle
by ChaosViper
Summary: When Soul finds something alarming in Maka's room, he suddenly feels less than adequate. This misunderstanding has very interesting results. R&R to win an internet. UPDATE: Now it's Soul's turn. Not what you might think. Chapter 4 now available.
1. Chapter 1

"Maka, you're such a lazy ass!"

Soul chuckled at the disembodied hand that randomly flipped him the bird from around the kitchen doorway. However, the pinkie wrapped around the mechanical pencil in its grasp made it just that much more comical.

"It's a meister-only exam, Soul. You're the one who had to have his annual underwear-washing ceremony on the night before the most important exam of the semester. When is your half of the test, anyway?

"Not until next month, when your dad gets back from the Asian branch of the academy. He's the designated proctor."

"Have you started studying?"

"I'll get to it, Maka. Keep your panties on." He grinned. "Or maybe not, since I'm folding them. Want me to wash the ones you're wearing?"

He was only half joking, but a few seconds later, a little yellow number came flying toward his face from around the corner. He let it hit him.

"Holy…these are soaked!"

"It's hot in here, doofus!"

Even though he couldn't see her face, he could literally feel the pink aura emanating from her cheeks in waves. The thought actually made him laugh out loud. Maka launched her book in his direction, but apparently the accuracy of the deadly CHOP only wanes with distance. It is most definitely a close-range attack, Soul delightedly discovered, as he was easily able to avoid the projectile by simply ducking slightly.

He chuckled again as he picked up the basket of folded laundry from the table. "Need to work on your aim, sweetie."

"Shaddup."

He quickly threw his own clean laundry on his bed to put away later. Maka's clothes, however, had to be folded properly and put away neatly; otherwise, his head would be hung out to dry in the morning. Or some other vital body part he most definitely preferred remain intact.

Socks and shirts, while admittedly cute (especially on his meister), were mostly boring. Skirts were fun to put away, but without an ass in them (again, preferably Maka's), there's wasn't much joy to be had. Ah, now we're talking. Probably the only reason that Soul could stand doing laundry in the first place. Taking a journey through Maka's underwear drawer, and actually having an excuse (and **permission**) to do so, would be every healthy man's secret fantasy. So many bunnies and kitties, and those red and black pieces that she bought just for him, while probably the most extreme contradiction to ever exist, pushed every single one of the scythe's buttons in the most glorious way possible.

While shoving things around to make room for the clean stuff, his fingers rubbed against something hard. And rubbery. And oh so very…**long**? The hell...

Soul knew what he'd discovered before even pulling it out, but actually seeing it in his grasp with that familiar shape and wacky **purple** color did absolutely nothing in halting his jaw's descent to the ground. It was…gargantuan. The only word he could think to describe it. The color was upsetting, to say the least. The thing was covered with exaggerated veins and studded ribbing for "her" pleasure. The little protrusion at the top was for?...oh yeah. At the "hilt" of this "sword" was a hard, raised square that held…yes…batteries. On the underside of the monstrosity was the appropriate title of "Punisher". Dear God, this thing had ten different settings!

A thousand and more questions went racing through Soul's head. Why was this in Maka's drawer? Why wasn't he aware of it? Was she unsatisfied in bed? Was she just faking those seemingly mind-blowing orgasms? Most importantly, _why the hell was this in Maka's drawer_?

His feet literally carried him Hermes-like in flight back to the family room. Maka had absolutely no time for a double take when something big and rubbery and PURPLE was shoved promptly in her face by a very frustrated and very confused scythe. When she finally realized both who and what were blocking her field of vision from the intriguing content of her textbook, it was far too late to simply ignore the hurt expression her weapon had on his face.

"Explain."

For reasons unknown to Maka, she did not react how she usually might. The sight of her boyfriend approaching her with the object in question would normally result in the latter individual either with a face full of fist or flying across the room with the resounding impact of a hardcover book to the cranium. Instead, she stared up at him blankly with a very un-Maka-like countenance, in part too astonished to do anything, and other parts without anything to say in the first place.

It was obvious he came to her seeking answers. That much was certain. However, this raised the extremely important question of how exactly to go about doing that. She faltered momentarily until her words found her.

"What were you doing going through my drawer in the first place, Soul?"

Hell NO was she turning this back on him! "I was putting away your laundry, Maka."

"You had to snoop to find it, right?"

This was going to sound extremely uncool. "You're my girlfriend! More than that, you're my partner! We're sleeping together! Am I not allowed to do that?"

She blushed. "You are…"

"Then what's the problem?"

"…it's just creepy, okay?"

"Try again."

He was answered with an extremely frustrated glare, possibly intended to make him flinch in recoil. To her chagrin, it did not have the intended effect. He stood above her poised defiantly, unwavering and unmoving, the purple menace still clutched tightly in his sweaty death grip of doom. The tips of his fingers turned white with the effort.

"Your soul feels guilty, not disgusted. You suck at hiding your feelings. Now spill it."

"What do you want me to say, Soul?"

"I want to know why you were hiding it from me."

"It's not a big deal."

"It is to me, damn it!" Did he just seriously stomp his foot when he said that?

"Why? Why is it so important?" She rose to her feet and launched herself in his face almost instantaneously. She couldn't hide the confused and hurt expression clouding her usually ridiculously-confident features, and that just made the whole situation many, many times worse.

"Because if I'm not pleasing you, I want to know about it, all right? You can do whatever the hell you want, but if I don't make you happy, then just say it to my face!"

Suddenly, Maka felt like the biggest idiot ever to draw first breath. Soul was worried about pleasing _her_? In what universe did that even remotely make sense? They'd been "together" for months, and she was still indescribably awkward in bed. She'd been the one to ball like a baby during their first time, and she still had trouble putting the condom on him without flipping it across the room like a lopsided rubber band. Why on earth would the presence of that confounded monstrosity among her personal effects cause him to reach that kind of farfetched conclusion? Didn't he know her better than that?

"It's not like…" God, those damned tears again. Why did she have to allow herself to act like such a girl?...

"Then what's it like? If it's not good anymore, then tell me. I want to know."

"Soul…" He had to distract himself from the cute way she tended to bite her bottom lip and blush whenever she became incredibly frazzled. Her hands began to wring themselves together in a frenzy of beautiful nervousness that was, frankly, somewhat of a relief after his outright unmanly display. Still, this was Maka he was dealing with. She was the worst person in the world to trust to be honest about her feelings. Especially when it came to anything of a sexual nature. Didn't she know she could come to him about anything?

Apparently not.

"…it was a joke, all right?"

What?

She spoke so softly that he almost had to ask her to repeat the statement, had she not continued to explain of her own volition.

"I lost a bet to Black Star…it was stupid, but…my price was to walk into an adult boutique and buy this thing."

The blush deepened. "I was going to take it back later, but I…I was too embarrassed!"

The silence that fell over the room was almost as heavy as the guilt Soul felt at that admission. He had to be the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.

"We're okay? I don't displease you?"

She shook her head. It took all she had to introduce her eyes to his.

"Anything but."

To his surprise and amusement, she dove into the couch, flaming face buried in the pillows to hide herself from the reality of what she'd just confessed. Despite the absolute humiliation of his meister in that moment, Soul's ego was suddenly soaring. Higher than they'd ever reach taking flight on her Grigori wings.

"Do you still have the receipt?"

Maka's head nodded into the pillow. Soul beamed.

The sound of a loud vibration startled her into meeting his gaze. The thing had come alive in his hand, and his crimson orbs suddenly shone brightly with flames. Those fangs in that crooked grin had never looked sharper.

"Toss it."


	2. Chapter 2

She was literally taken aback. Maka stood there motionless and dumbfounded, looking at Soul as if a second head had sprouted from his shoulders. She had not expected this turn of events. If he hadn't been the one to shatter the foundations of her sanity right then, one might think her father had just announced to the world a vow of unwavering celibacy with how utterly stupefied she became in that moment.

"W-what?"

"You heard me." The purple plaything still whirred vivaciously in his grasp. "Get rid of it. We won't be needing it."

"We? Soul, you've got to be kiddi-!"

He pushed through her bubble, towering over her petite form as she remained recumbent and compliant upon the couch. As he knelt to meet her face, Maka's heart raced, thrumming and racing so quickly that her heightened breath felt warm and vibrant upon his cheek. His lips and fangs ghosted over the surface of her neck and collarbone in a slow and agonizing pattern that left her speechless, his mouth refusing to make direct contact with the glorious contours of her skin just yet. Pushing the shoulder strap of her top aside, he continued to tease her up and down with ethereal caresses and featherlike ministrations until his tongue finally grazed against that sensitive place behind her ear — that susceptible patch of skin that always sent her reeling into high-pitched moans and sighs as she recoiled at his mercy.

Once that confirmation passed her lips, she realized she was a goner.

Continuing to thoroughly lather her neck and shoulder with scrupulous attention as a distraction, Soul pushed her back to recline completely on the couch beneath them. Grabbing her legs beneath the knee, he pulled her lower half to the edge of the seat until her butt remained teetering on the edge of the polyester abyss. Their lips met as he covered her form with his, tongues dancing and intertwining as he sank down on top of her. She moaned again at the feeling of his semi-erection coming to life between her legs. She remained oblivious to his intentions until he tore his lips away so that he could see his hand take the waistband of her shorts and begin to pull slowly downward. Realizing that the vibrator was still active in his other hand, the momentary passion-filled haze she'd been hiding behind diminished in a spark of immediate realization. She panicked.

"Soul…wait…" She grabbed his hand to halt his movements, but he only tugged harder, managing to get the shorts down to her knees before she really started protesting. "…c'mon…no…"

Pushing against his chest, she attempted to make him stop by putting some distance between her nether regions and that…THING. Soul sensed some of her indignation through the link, and with the way her words and actions were screaming that his meister was just a wee bit frightened about the prospect of putting that…THERE, he decided that changing tactics might be the best plan when considering Maka's modesty…and his safety, for that matter. He clicked the device off and placed it next to her on the couch. With the offending instrument silent and pushed aside for the moment, he felt some of Maka's tension and nervousness subside as his lips returned to meet hers once more.

"Why does your soul feel afraid?" he whispered between kisses.

"Not…" was all he managed to make out of her minimalistic response.

"Liar."

The shorts suddenly went by the wayside as he pulled her prone form to the edge of the couch again. She gasped and attempted to prevent the removal of that particular article of clothing, but to her dismay, she had to wish her bottoms a final farewell as Soul's blade arm sliced them into many, many tiny irrecoverable pieces.

"Soul!"

"Yes, Maka?" he smirked before his tongue ran languidly up a smooth, supple thigh. She squeaked in response and attempted to close her legs against the torturous invasion, her eyes drawn to his crimson ones like a lustful magnet. He squeezed her thighs affectionately and continued to run light kisses up and down her leg in order to provide some means of solace. If only she would just relax…but that might be asking too much of his apprehensive meister.

He chuckled out loud, though partially to himself. "Still shy, huh?"

She didn't answer with words, but the way her legs clamped together and her cheeks became rosily flushed was all the answer he needed to confirm any suspicions. They'd been together in the bedroom a fair number of times at that point in their relationship, but Maka constantly proved a challenge to take any sort of initiative where her own pleasure was concerned. She had no problem catering to his needs. She would be the first to rip off his pants and see to it that he was taken care of good and proper, but when it came to foreplay or anything that involved herself being the center of attention, the shy girl in his normally feisty meister came floating to the surface. He found it unbelievably sexy and adoringly cute, but it proved rather difficult in allowing the scythe to show her just how much she meant to him…and how much he _really_ wanted to take her new "item" for a test drive right then.

If he was going to get anywhere, he would have to take things nice and slow…completely contrary to his usually succinct and saucy demeanor.

His fingers slowly danced up her legs and around her hips, a wraithlike massage that barely made contact with her sensitive skin. Maka moaned at the sensation, in part out of nervousness and another because it felt divine. Those magic digits traveled up her torso and around her back in a sort of half hug that caused her to further relax back into the couch. He continued running feather-soft caresses across her back and sides, but when his daring hands meandered a little too close to her midsection, she jumped and giggled into his neck.

Oh shit…

He looked at her with the most mischievous grin. "What?"

"Tickles…"

"Oh really…?"

Maka launched out of her seat as those nimble fingers worked their magic on the sensitive skin of her midriff. To his amusement, she squirmed and laughed, trying to escape his personal torture. Using only his thumbs, he dug them hard into her sides, sending her into a fit of giggles and begging for mercy. She retaliated by pushing against his chest with her foot, but his response was to assault the skin of that limb, as well, grasping her around the ankle with his strong hand and attacking the most sensitive spots around the bases of her toes.

"Sto-stop, Soul! C'mon, I mean it!"

He did as she asked, halting his ministrations to her feet and moving his face to meet hers in a heated kiss that made her head spin and heart flutter inside her chest. This mish-mash of sensations her weapon constantly brought forth from inside his meister always simultaneously confused, fascinated, and aroused her to no end. How did he do it? What was the secret? Did he hold some certain power over her mind and body? Or was the reason she succumbed to his attentions body and soul simply due to the fact that it was _him_ commanding those moans and gasps from her prostrate form? How could she be a giggling mess in one instant and a mindless pool of sexually-tensioned goop the next?

She was convinced she'd probably never know. And frankly, she didn't care as his hands once again ran up and down her thighs, merely dancing closer and closer to the nether region where she demanded his touch the most. She didn't notice as he maneuvered the purple menace from its position beside her, placing it unnoticed between her legs in preparation for what was to come. Her shirt went the same way as her shorts, being instantly cut to shreds by Soul's arm-turned-scythe, leaving her naked and exposed before him on the seat.

Her eyes suddenly expressed both extreme arousal and nervousness. His lips, tongue, and hands worked the inside of her thighs all over again, loosening the tension of her leg muscles and putting both her, and himself, in that happy place where nothing else mattered except his attention to her skin. Those powerful and evil hands spread her wide, massaging responsive muscle mere inches away from her pleasure center. Those sharp and deadly fangs plucked at her skin hungrily and with vigor, sending shivers up her spine and leaving slight red welts on the planes of nearly-white satin skin in their wake.

"Open. Wider." The command was useless, because his hands were suddenly further up her thighs, prying her legs apart and holding them there with the width of his chest. Face flushed and feeling incredibly embarrassed about being so exposed, Maka whimpered when he moved and once again reached for that certain object to place it obliquely against her labia majora. She squeaked like a mouse and jumped, her butt flying straight off the couch in surprise.

"Cold!"

He looked at the menace inquisitively. "Is it?" Rubbing it against her quickly-moistening opening, she shivered and unconsciously spread her legs wider. Despite being extremely aroused and receptive at the prospect of what Soul was planning, Maka silently wondered how on Earth this thing was going to fit. Not that Soul was lacking for anything, but this particular object was much bigger than the scythe in question…not that its owner was complaining, either. Soul felt the apprehension through the bond and seceded that something must be done.

At the sight that followed, Maka felt she could literally melt. Or burst into flames. Or jump into a raging volcano and be completely annihilated by a wild inferno of blazing fire and still be happy at what she witnessed in that moment. Whichever best reflected the look of utter desire and excitement at the vision of the long, erect member passing Soul's lips and entering the cavern of his oral orifice. His mouth completely encompassing the object nearly to the hilt, Maka nearly keeled when he deep-throated the thing, moving his head up and down against its surface, completely drenching it in saliva and sticky moisture. Meeting her heated gaze, nothing in Maka's life had ever been hotter than the way Soul was working that object in and out, over and over again repeatedly, until it was thoroughly soaked and ready for further action. Maka nearly swooned at the loud popping sound it made when the tip passed through his lips with a smack. Had that really just happened? Had her weapon just inadvertently let known his possible bisexual tendencies on a piece of purple rubber?

That thought was thrown to the wayside as he once again positioned that rigid member at her entrance. Still sensing a bit of uneasiness despite his previous action, Soul began rubbing her sweet spot thoroughly with the object in question. When it glossed over the nub positioned at the top of her entrance, the subsequent "ah!" and twitch of her legs on either side of him let him know that she was anything but uncomfortable. He chose that moment to turn it on, sending a wave of vibrations straight to her place of desire. Maka moaned and opened her legs wider, wordlessly inviting her scythe to continue with his devious plans.

"It's going in," he stated matter-of-factly. "Don't tense. Relax."

She nodded. She was grateful in that moment that she wasn't a virgin, but despite having some experience in the art of down and dirty sex, Maka was still unprepared for the sensation that followed. As the purple menace sank slowly into her soaking depths, the tip easing past her pelvic bone and the main girth of the shaft hitting that sensitive place inside that left her moaning and gasping his name, the culmination of these sensations and the unfamiliar jolt of the vibrations coursing through her nether regions made it impossible for her to hold back any longer. There was an awful pinch and a substantial amount of pain, but she would be damned if she didn't admit to herself that it was beginning to feel damn good. Still, Soul wasn't having any of that resistance. His tongue went straight for her clit, his left hand going directly for her hip in order to keep her midsection from flying too far off the couch.

The elevation of her hips off the seat allowed the object in his hands to sink even deeper inside her. The angle provided even greater mobility in allowing Soul to thrust it in and out, and having her clitoris right there at his face was more than just convenient. Her hips thrust into his face hard, and her gasps, moans, and screams of only his name drowned out any sound coming from the object embedded in her snatch. Never before had she felt so full, so stretched, so mind-bogglingly filled to glorious capacity. She could feel it touch her cervix with each pull out and retraction back in. Her body was swelling with immeasurable ecstasy.

For Soul, there was nothing sexier than seeing his beloved Maka impaling something at this angle. With her lower body elevated and her feet pushing off against him with every stroke, he could look straight up her prostrate form and see every fluid motion, every thrust of her hips, and every square inch of the object as it disappeared and reappeared from inside her depths with every thrust. Her head was thrown to the side in glorious passion, eyes squeezed nearly shut yet trying to keep his gaze, and he could tell she was nearly at her breaking point because not even his name could complete itself on her lips anymore.

"You're so hot like this, Maka," he said in the gruffest voice he'd ever heard himself make. "This is what it looks like when I'm inside you? It's the best sight in the world." He sped up his strokes, and her hips sped up to meet his pace, her rear still elevated nearly a foot above the edge of the couch cushion. "Does it feel good?"

"Ye-ye-yes!" Her mind was so clouded and her body so near completion that she could hardly form a coherent sentence without coming outright. "Faster, Soul…please!"

"As you wish, my meister." The pace sped up again, and Maka reached out her arms to grip his upper body tightly. She needed to touch him, to feel him, use him to remain grounded and prevent herself from flying off into the internal abyss of space. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, bringing her face to meet his and crashing their lips together in a glorious union resembling the one they'd made with their bodies on more than one occasion. It wasn't Soul she was connected to physically at that moment, but a piece of synthetic material. However, their Souls were still connected in a bond that was closer than any other, and even though it wasn't Soul buried between her legs, he could still sense the intense feelings coursing through her being directly through the bond. It was wild, it was frightful, and it was downright intense how closely their wavelengths were integrated. He feared if he had actually been one with her in that moment, his soul would have been completely annihilated by the feedback alone.

"Are you coming, Maka?"

Her hips continued to grind into the object in his hand. "Yeee-eeess!"

He could literally feel the moment she came before her vocalizations confirmed it. Her body went rigid and completely tight. She gripped him in her arms like a vice, and his name in his ear, admittedly, was the second hottest thing that occurred that evening. She rode out the waves until they finally released her exhausted form from their grasp, still engulfing Soul's head in her arms as she attempted to reintroduce her lungs to some much-needed air. He sat up to see her bare form collapsed onto the sofa, arm covering her eyes and skin flushed pink with almost fitful rapture. He decided in that moment that all the intensely delicious images he'd seen over the course of the past fifteen minutes would have to be repeated. Multiple times. In a variety of positions and places. And SOON.

He kneeled down to meet her gaze beneath the makeshift shelter of her arm. Completely embarrassed and satiated, she drove her head beneath the pillow ornamenting her side of the sofa to keep her hidden from his scrutinizing gaze. Soul decided that the only thing hotter than sexed-up Maka was embarrassed and sexually-frustrated Maka. And being the cool guy that he was, he could milk those images for all they were worth.

"Good grief, Maka, you soaked the couch!"

Okay, NOW it wasn't possible for her to get any redder.

He was met with a face full of pillow and an image of what looked like Maka in tomato form. He chuckled and found it surprisingly easy to dodge her attempted punches to his face. Catching her in mid-swing, he pulled her naked form into his arms and brought her face to meet his once again.

"Let's go soil another room. Yours or mine?"


	3. Chapter 3

_For the life of me, I don't know what I was thinking. I never intended to revisit this again. Part of me thinks that I'm crazy for doing so. However, a certain conversation with the lovely Marsh of Sleep got both of our minds wandering off the beaten path, and rather than let these mental images stew and rot in a cell somewhere in the back of my brain, I wanted to see if I could actually make sense of some of the more technical ideas that were involved. Or some semblance of it. Or some shit like that. _

_If anyone is to blame, it would have to be the wonderful Madame Marsh. So I guess that's who I'll dedicate this to. For lack of a better reason for exposing the rest of the world to this crack. Beat her senseless with the smut stick, not me. _

_Love ya, dude! _

_More to come. Readers VERY VERY beware! Seriously, hide your children and your straight husbands. I have a feeling they wouldn't enjoy my brain juice much. Get ready for not a lot of sense and very very loose plot points of FAIL loaded with an abundance of OOCness.  
_

**CV**

_EDIT: Okay, Marsh isn't entirely to blame. But after an epic escapade of 24+ chapters of Amp gracing the internet, I think I can spare the pointing of a finger or two._**  
**

* * *

Another day in Death City. Another aftermath from a battle with the fucking Grand Poobah of all kishins that left the entire membership of Spartoi scrambling for cover in fear of their lives. Even with the power of the Death Scythes. Even with Soul Eater's new abilities. Each encounter continued to prove exceedingly difficult as Asura made it known in more ways than one how improbable their defeat of him actually was.

Some days, Maka wondered if he was just toying with them. Biding his time until he decided to engulf the entire planet in his madness and serve their entire team well done on a silver platter complete with a side of cheese and a white wine.

And on this particular day, her weapon had done nothing at all in improving her outlook for the future.

The obvious emotionless visage of indifference on her weapon's face pissed her off far more than she would ever care to admit. Turning away to tend to his other injuries, the broad expanse of the muscular back she'd come to know like an extension of her own being aimed in her direction could be no less a declaration of absolute defiance of her feelings than if he had squeezed her heart to a bloodless pulp with his own two hands. The weight of it literally made her sick to her stomach, and she leaned against the doorframe as if it were the last lifeline keeping her from a fate with the floor.

"So I was just supposed to let you die?"

She was met with silence, but his continued attention to the gashes on his arms gave an indication that he was still listening. This was the first time she'd gotten a good look at the result of their last tussle with Asura, but the gravity of his actions were absolutely branded all over his body, probably covering much more than she could see even with his shirt already off. She wanted to reach out, make sure he was still whole, and heal his entire form with kisses and caresses and demands that he never put himself in harm's way for her ever again. But at the same time was the overwhelming need to bash his stubborn face in for nearly making her lose him once more.

"Answer me, Soul!"

"We've been over this, Maka!" he shouted much louder than he needed to. "I am always prepared to die for my meister! That's the way it's always been and it's never going to change! No matter how fucking strong you think you are, I'll always be stronger!"

He turned on a dime to face her, and her eyes were magnetized to the telltale scar given to him by Ragnarok so long ago. It was just like back then. Only this time, complementing the old scar were fresh gashes and black bruises adorning the canvas of personal sacrifice that was her weapon's body. She had been the cause of each and every one of those brands of battle. Every last one of them.

And he didn't care.

A very unbecoming sob escaped her lips as her fist made contact with the door, resulting in a deafening BANG that shook the entire apartment and left a very impressive hole in the wood grain. Even Soul's eyes widened momentarily. Her other hand fisted in her hair, her face, her neck; anywhere to lessen the extreme tension building inside her petite frame. He was used to her tears, but he hadn't expected her to try and fight them off.

"You must have known how I would feel. I know you did." She leaned against the door again. "You didn't care about my feelings. Just like before, when…when Crona…when you nearly fucking died again!"

"I wasn't going to die, Maka," Soul stated with relative composure. "I walked away with a few scratches, and Stein didn't have to sew me up this time like a freaking stuffed doll. I'm a god damned Death Scythe, and I know what the hell I'm doing!"

"No you don't!" she cried. "Damn it, Soul, if I hadn't…" The thought made her words falter. Her entire body was quaking, knees knocking together at the mere prospect.

"If you hadn't what? Spill it, Maka. If you hadn't what?"

"If I hadn't sent out my soul's wavelength at him before that blast hit us, you wouldn't be here! You got in the way! And I-I couldn't…I couldn't protect you, too!"

"Bull shit! Since when have I needed to be protected by you? It's the weapon's job to protect the meister, not the other way around! I'm repeating myself again, you idiot-!"

Soul's expression suddenly morphed into something consisting of one part astonishment and other parts disbelief and exasperation. The disinfectant fell from his hand with a clatter to the floor, and for nearly a minute the extent of his strength went to simply keeping himself standing as he was suddenly overcome with a crushing sensation that threatened to drag his entire body to the ground beneath the sheer weight of it. His knees were bent and straining, his feet spreading further and further apart as he fought to remain vertical. His hands went to grip his head, as he felt that his brains could suddenly come pouring out of his ears at any second. His nose was bleeding. The most frightening thing of all was that the sensation only intensified as his meister made her way toward him from across the room.

Before he hit the floor, Maka shoved him onto his back on his bed as gently as possible. She was still crying, and it didn't help that she was once again the cause of his discomfort. Or in this case, nearly agonizing pressure. It was as if the Earth's gravity had tripled, yet his body was the only thing affected. The bed didn't bow beneath him like it would have had he now weighed a few hundred pounds more. The sheets were still rumpled and not flattened in the least. Yet the scythe could barely lift his head from the mattress, let alone open his mouth to demand Maka tell him what the hell was going on.

He didn't have to.

Still sniffling, Maka explained, "It's like Soul Force. I think. I don't know…"

"Wh-wh-when?…" he mouthed as best he could.

She loosened her metaphysical grip on him slightly, enough to let him breathe freely but still retaining as much control as she needed to let her point stand. Like the dedicated student that she was, she was silently experimenting with the level of control she had over this technique, and how much was actually required to keep the hold on her weapon intact. She was disheartened to discover that in his already-weakened state, it wasn't much.

"Shortly after we made you a Death Scythe. I…I don't know how. Or why. Maybe it has something to do with a part of Arachne's soul infusing into me from you. Like the black blood. She was a powerful witch, and…I've read that it can happen sometimes…"

"Fucking God, Maka. Why didn't you tell-"

"Because I didn't know what it was!" she shouted suddenly. "I didn't know how to use it until recently! And I didn't want you to know! You didn't need to! But it's okay, isn't it?"

Her tears sprang forth a new well of moisture, and gathering up the vestiges of her courage, she mounted his prostrate form on the bed, planting her hands on his chest and twining her legs with his to reestablish that connection that she so desperately craved. Her soul flowed into him, and she heard him gasp loudly as she essentially began fucking him with the brunt of her wavelength. It had been so long since he'd come to her, touched her, loved her, needed her, molded himself with her. He did absolutely everything for her, never asking for anything in return, and in the past she couldn't do a damn thing to protect what they had together. The future wasn't certain. There was no telling how much time they had left.

_I love him so much. And…and I almost lost him. AGAIN._

Well no more.

Still maintaining her "hold" on him with her wavelength enough that he couldn't push her away, she climbed off of him long enough to turn him over onto his stomach. Despite the painful groaning that ensued on his part, she managed to get him flat again as she reached for the aloe on the corner of his nightstand. Squirting a heaping gob of the stuff in her palm (way more than necessary), she began rubbing it into the aggravated skin of his back in long, slow, almost sensual strokes, making sure to let her nails lightly scrape him where he wasn't cut in a feather-like massage that had him whimpering in pleasure. This was where the majority of his new injuries were showing. All along the posterior end of his body, when his back had been turned toward Asura to "shield" her from the blast.

All along his shoulders, neck, and dorsal side. Soul's skin was glistening with the gel, and he had to admit it felt abso-fucking-lutely divine.

Finished with that part of the task at hand, her hands suddenly went to his shorts, and pulled them down and off his legs in one swift motion. She sensed his hesitation the moment he felt it, and before he could protest or push her off him, she sent out more of her wavelength to still his movements.

All along his legs, thighs, and buttocks were more deep gashes. Some especially dark bruises around his hip bones that before had seemed minor when the majority of what she'd viewed had been from above the waistline of his shorts. She hadn't realized how all-consuming these marks were that scarred his beautiful body. He shifted nervously beneath her painstaking gaze, and he moaned when the sound of her sobs once again reached his ears. More than his pain, more than her father, more than Asura. This level of grief for his person was what he hated more than anything else in the world. To hear her cry.

"Soul, I'm so-sorry…" she sobbed.

"Not your fault, Maka," he said with his face buried in sheets.

"Maybe not, but…." She faltered. Suddenly, she was overcome with the realization and the possibility of doing, despite her previous level of anger, what she'd longed to do for him earlier.

Moving down the bed, she ran her hands up and down his calves, the residual gel on her hands leaving a contradictingly-enticing chill to the wounds there as the heat of her mouth began planting kisses all over the same flesh. Moving up to the sensitive place behind his knees, he shivered and literally shook beneath her as she added her tongue into the mix, alternating between languorous, quivering kisses with her lips, and excruciatingly-long, sensual caresses with her oral muscle that made him bury his face as far into the mattress as physically possible.

Her ministrations moved up the backs of his thighs, and he moaned. Then up further to the globes of his rear, and he whimpered helplessly. She spent far too much time on his glutes than he might have felt necessary, but he didn't really start complaining until her tongue moved to dip slightly into the crease of his ass.

Then his lower half came to life.

"Ma-maka?" His hips jumped beneath her.

She slowly sent out more of her wavelength to him, infusing it into the bond to calm his nerves as much as possible. She was as initially startled by her own actions as he. She could not tell what exactly came over her in that moment, other than the all-consuming need to make his pain _go away _by any means possible. She'd gotten lost in the feel of him, the sound of him, the smell of him…Was this how he felt when he consumed her, body and soul? She'd never really taken control when it came to the more intimate aspects of their relationship. Until now. But if the result was making Soul feel half as good as he'd made her feel, on multiple occasions, then she could definitely put a temporary placemat on her modesty.

Her mouth continued to do what was normally forbidden, dancing around that place that he really wished she wasn't touching. Not because he hated what she was doing. But because these sensations were so different, so foreign, so strange, so oddly wonderful that he didn't want to make her stop. That fact alone scared the living daylights out of him. Her hands moved tentatively between them to stroke his balls, slowly at first, and then with more vigor, and he squirmed uneasily beneath the absolutely overwhelming treatment of her hands and mouth. His already-engorged penis was trapped between the proverbial rock and a hard place, out of her reach and acting as his own personal kickstand beneath him. When her tongue made one fluid stroke starting from his balls and moving all the way up to the base of his tailbone, he officially became jelly.

"F-fu-fu-Maka! Huuuuhh…"

She was becoming increasingly fascinated at Soul's reactions to having her mouth….there. And his continuous lack of words and abundant quantities of…other sounds and exclamations. Especially when she accidentally grazed her teeth against him and he yelled something unintelligible into the mattress that sounded like some mutation of her name and a rather naughty obscenity that she'd certainly never heard him use before. At least not in her presence.

On to his back, where her hands once again went to work across its silky and slippery expanse. The aloe from his skin felt good on her chapped lips. Broad shoulders and lean waist drew her eyes to the subtle line leading down to the small of his back. She followed it, and began paving a path up his spine with her tongue, slow and agonizingly thorough. Soul cried out, and his form bowed beneath her, shifting her higher to the back of his neck, where she parted the hair at his nape and sent his senses reeling there, as well. Her hips settled over his own, fitting snugly against his compliant form, and Maka couldn't help but notice the similar position she'd taken over him. The one that mirrored his own when they made love in this bed. The thought of it sent tingles directly down below to her own pleasure center and she ground her hips into the back of his, arms splayed out on either side of his torso and head falling between his shoulder blades as she whimpered at the sensations caused by her own action.

Soul could feel her heat there, and it was altogether new and exciting in a way that left him completely unsure what to do with himself.

"Fuck, woman..."

He was enjoying this. The bond would tell her if he wasn't. The combination of her physical touch and the push of her soul into the experience had birthed a reaction that was not entirely suspected, but by no means unwelcome. Yet, it wasn't enough. He was floating, yes. But she wanted to make him soar. Send him flying so high that he might never come down again. His happiness meant more to her than her own life. She would test the limits of his ecstasy, as far as he would willingly let her.

Lust-filled and completely lost in the heat of her weapon, she released herself from him long enough to reach for the purple object in the drawer of his nightstand. It held a special place there ever since the night he had first sent her to the moon and back on their living room couch. She worried whether or not she was overstepping her bounds, or if what she had in mind would send both of them catapulting into a new level of intimacy from which neither could return. She prayed for the trust in herself to discern the difference.


	4. Chapter 4

Soul might have been able to resist his meister's advances had his body not been downgraded to the status of a kishin cutting board. There may have been some possibility of leaving the situation with his pants on, and manhood still intact, had he not just been subjected to the most wonderful and torturous treatment of his young life, at the behest of his meister's new-found abilities. There might have been more control of the situation if he would just learn to keep his big mouth shut wherever Maka was concerned.

But under the circumstances, with a large, purple, pulsating object threatening to bombard his backdoor in the next five seconds, and his meister above him with a crushing otherworldly hold on him that any general infantryman would kill for, resistance seemed to be the most unlikely option at that point.

The scythe could barely lift himself off the mattress anymore. Yes, his wounds were excruciating. He wanted to kick the damn kishin's ass the next time they crossed paths. Better yet, if it were possible, he'd love to hunt the bastard down and show him what for, in the off chance that Asura had suddenly developed the spiritual power of a little girl upon their next encounter. Which seemed extremely unlikely given personal experience and the epic pounding he'd received earlier. However, his current predicament was far more disconcerting than a cross with any kishin he could recall.

Somehow, the object in her hand seemed to double in size. Maybe that was just his brain's skewed interpretation at the prospective activities Maka was contemplating. Or maybe it was really that fucking big.

She could sense his _major_ bout of hesitation without even asking. Her eyes refusing to meet his and the blush on her face spoke mountains and caverns about her true intentions. She was unsure of herself. He was unsure about everything, too. Dear God, where had this brazenness come from? However, scattered among the confusion were specklings of curiosity. She was curious. Her soul was screeching questions and concerns at him like a four-year-old at an amusement park. What is safe to do? Does he trust me enough? What if I'm overstepping my bounds? Will he hate me for all eternity?

All the while, she failed to halt the object's movement across his clammy skin, making it exceedingly impossible for him to refuse anything her over-sexed brain could conjure up. When had she started to run the object over his chest in slow, repeating motions that sent tingles straight to the tips of his toes? Hell, when had she turned him over onto his back again without brushing against his injuries and making him squeal like a little bitch? Soul quickly came to the conclusion that her hands must be made of pure magic and rainbows, and he'd need to patent their magnificent power the next time he could fucking think straight.

Her tongue in his mouth distracted from the sudden vibrations caused by the menace's impromptu introduction to his pebble-hard nipples. Damn, but that thing was loud, and excessively stimulating, to boot. He couldn't stifle the moan that escaped as she circled first one, and then the other of his pecs with the tip of the gyrating demon. His hands flew to her hips and squeezed when she replaced the neglected one with her tongue, and began mimicking its actions with her own hot, wet appendage. The hand not occupied with turning his skin to putty slowly skimmed down his muscular chest until Little Soul was firmly and happily within her grasp, already erect, aching, and weeping at the tip for whatever his meister had in store for the next round.

Her eyes suddenly begged the question "Can I?", with that face not even the most evil kishin could deny, and he momentarily damned himself to hell for not having the balls to inquire as to the exact meaning of her unvoiced request. He soon discovered, however, that perhaps questioning her motives was downright asinine, when the hand gripping the vibrator also suddenly enclosed his dick in its grasp. As the thing roared to life, she used both hands to squeeze the two shafts harder together, and when his spine vertically bowed at the sensation of that thing stimulating him _right there_between his legs, Soul made an instant and solemn vow to never, ever again, even under pain of death, deny his partner anything. Unless her safety was involved, then they'd have to ta-AAAALK!

Twitching hands gripped the sheets, and knobby knees and heels pushed themselves into the mattress to gain better leverage. Her weapon's hips rose off the bed and seemed to be fucking the air itself, which proved rather difficult while the meister was sitting right on his legs, making any sort of movement difficult at best. Scooting herself forward and placing her covered heat directly on top of his business, Soul was unprepared for the unmanly gasp he elicited at the sudden addition of a hot, wet, horny Maka pussy inadvertently inviting itself into the fray.

Not that he fucking cared for shit. And neither did she, when a subsequent and uncontrollable upward thrust of his hips sent her naughty bits careening directly into the object's wake, and his throbbing predicament.

He didn't think it was possible for eyes to literally roll back into one's head. Or for her to squeeze his dick and the vibrator together so tightly it was a miracle there was no loss of circulation to Little Soul or her red, swollen hands. He'd voiced multiple times that the sound of a moaning, whimpering, lustful Maka was the primary reason ears were invented. This time was no exception.

Her hips began rocking into his of their own accord. The impact of her lower half colliding with his dick and the buzzing bundle of ecstasy still being gripped for dear life in her hands was almost enough to send her over the edge. Almost. He couldn't see them because of her skirt, but he could definitely feel something made of damp, moist, and slick cotton rubbing against him with every movement of strong hips. Damn it, she still had her panties on! Soul decided that this was surely the most unforgivable sin. One to be repented of immediately, even if he had to play Anti-God and help the sinner along.

Her control of his body waned somewhat at the advent of genital-vibrator gymnastics, so he took the opportunity to do the only thing that made any sort of sense to his befuddled brain. A single hand, suddenly changing itself into a striped blade of sexual justice, forced a clean slice through her underwear, skirt, and shirt, starting at the hip, ripping them clear off her body without a second thought or apology. Any complaint of Maka's was immediately silenced at the feeling of warm, slick rubber vibrating directly against her swollen clit, no longer impeded by the inconvenience of a barrier, and his hands against her modest mounds, skin to glorious skin.

"Maka...let me..."

She didn't have time to question his attempt at tangible words, and he didn't bother elaborating further. Mindful of his injuries, and confirming over the link that yes, she needed to let off the gas and give him a chance to fucking drive for once, woman!, Soul pulled himself into an upright position and crushed her body to his chest as lightly as possible, positioning them carefully so that her wetness touched Little Soul and the menace simultaneously. Maka slid to the base of them both with the aid of gravity, switching the vibrator into second gear on the way down. Weapon and meister unabashedly cried out to the ceiling in unison, sending a guttural reminder to the entire apartment complex that both of them were screamers.

"Huuuuuh...there!"

Soul's hands flew to her ass, crashing her down harder on their tormentor, and causing the most high-pitched squeal to erupt from her mouth.

"There?" he chuckled, despite the amount of sheer ampage still racking his own person.

"Mmm-hmm..."

Both of Maka's hands moved to his broad shoulders out of a need for something, anything, to hold on to, and her face became lost in the skin of his chest. Her harsh and ragged breath was rough against the wounds there, but the minuscule pain was secondary to the unbelievable sight of his meister _getting off with him_ simultaneously in his lap. Soul picked up the slack by grabbing his dick and the vibe in one hand, and holding her dripping sex against them both with the other.

He was definitely going to come first at this rate. It was especially obvious when he could sense through the link that she was trying to hold back. She would let off the pressure long enough to press her lips to his own, caressing the inside of his mouth with her tongue and sending his senses not already on a roller coaster on a joy ride of their own. Well, this simply would not do. At all.

He refused to deny his gentlemanly duties just because he was cut up like a Christmas turkey. However skewed and partially dead those might be.

Reaching between them like a predator in stealth mode, his finger made its way to her clit, and she nearly screamed when he caressed it gently. Lips moving along his neck frantically, and legs tightening around his hips of their own volition, she couldn't halt the waves that shook her entire form at the addition of the added stimulus. She was coming in his lap, and it was all he could do to ride it out without coming undone himself.

"Maka..."

At the sound of her name, she exploded, literally and figuratively, hands in his hair and lips moving frantically against his own a feeble attempt at staying grounded, while the pure essence of what makes Maka a woman essentially soaked his dick and the toy in its heat.

But she wasn't through with him yet. Even if she had just experienced one of the most extreme and earth-shattering orgasms of her life. Not by a long shot. Soul had denied her the satisfaction of witnessing her lover reaching that same pinnacle along with her. This experience was supposed to be entirely about him, but like the typical backseat driver, he'd sent them careening in an entirely different direction.

Maka intended to utilize the knowledge that Soul _wasn't_ a raging homophobe. He had ruined any guise of complete heterosexuality after the development of a raging hard-on as a result of not only her previous actions, but from a dildo stimulating his junk, as well. Could she get him to lose control in the same manner that always made her weak in the knees and jelly on the floor, among other things? She was certainly going to try.

Again he was pushed to his back on the bed. Crawling on top of him and facing away, toned, well-defined legs positioned his meister over the part of him that wanted to join with her the most. Rising to his elbows, a glance at her tense shoulders and the way sinew-like muscle flexed beneath soft skin illustrated clearly her need to get down to business. Give him a ride he would never forget. Under normal circumstances, he would definitely have no objections.

Except she seemed so damn obligated to pay him back. For what? Risking his life? That was his own shitty prerogative. And something he would never stop doing. Not even if she threatened his life. Which may seem rather counter-productive, but he wouldn't put it past her. Her bookworm mentality more often than not indicated severe deprivation of any semblance of common sense whatsoever.

His tip eased passed her inner walls, and Soul's pupils were again introduced to the backs of his eyelids. With an uncomfortable grunt and difficulty on her part getting situated correctly, he realized he may have to take matters into his own hands after all. If she would let him, that is. She seemed pretty determined to do this herself, but while the endearing notion of Maka taking the initiative turned him up hotter than a volcano in a steam room, her inexperience and virgin-like mannerisms left him no other choice than to show her how it's done.

"Problem?"

Panicked, the blond squeezed him tighter on accident. The resulting hiss passing through his teeth could convince anyone not looking that they were boiling water.

"He-hey!"

"No! Um...I just...ow...ow...fucking OW!"

He chose to ignore the fact that she'd accidentally let one slip. "Hold up! Wait. Here."

Turning her back around to face him, and positioning her knees on either side of his hips for better mobility, the weapon helped ease her onto his pulsing shaft. Keeping her hips locked firmly in his palms, slowly, one inch at a time, they used gravity to guide her body down to its final completion. When he was fully encased in her hot, moist heat, she couldn't contain the gasp that escaped in that culminating moment.

Soul chuckled through his own hoarse moan. "It's better...this way. I can see..." Looking forward to where their bodies were joined, Maka couldn't stop the blush that engulfed her sweating countenance.

"...everything."

"Don't say that!"

"Why?"

"It's embarrassing!"

"Not yet it's not. Are you gonna do it or what?"

Her innocent, questioning expression could make him come all by itself if he wasn't careful.

"Do...what?"

"Whatever it is you were gonna do with...that."

Chucking it up from the covers and shoving the purple object into her hand, Maka fumbled a bit when she realized that he'd been listening in. To her head. And all her wicked, crazy ideas. That involved her weapon and the rigid menace currently in her grasp. The blush intensified ten-fold.

"Soul...I-"

Warm lips met hers in a collision of teeth and tongue as he sat up to her level. The motion caused him to shift hurriedly inside her, resulting in a very near scream on her part. She shivered when his fangs engulfed her oral muscle and pricked it lightly, tiny pin points of pressure that had her whimpering in their wake. She wanted to consume him until there was nothing left. And likewise, he had no problem with letting her.

Foreheads pressing together as they gasped for breath, Maka had never before seen such a soft look in her weapon's eyes. He was usually extremely fierce during sex, but something about the way he moved, looked, and acted this time indicated that something major had changed. Or was going to change.

"You can do whatever the hell you want, Maka. I'm yours...a-and I trust you."

ONLY you.

With that, he reached over and turned the thing in her hand up to the highest setting possible. It whirred to life, and the drooling grin on his face only got wider at the sound.

Well. Who was she to argue with that kind of invitation?

It was a first for Maka in the dominant position. Like so many other encounters in his bed, it took some time for her to become accustomed to being in control. But she quickly learned that rolling her hips forward and down, as well as using those internal muscles to squeeze him like a wet clamp with every pass, ensured the loudest and longest vocalizations possible from the weapon beneath her. Their hands clasped together on his chest, and with each roll of her body to meet his own, each was convinced that they could make it to the moon and back on ecstasy alone.

When Maka brought her little friend into the mix, Soul would later swear that he'd passed the boundaries of the Milky Way and actually caught a glimpse of Proxima Centauri somewhere in the realm of transient planets and stars. With each caress of the object against his neglected testicles, somewhere a sun exploded in a cavalcade of brilliant and bright supernovas. Although there was no actual penetration (thank Shinigami!), his shout at the movement and vibrations felt in the general vicinity of his own opening were loud enough to be heard far past the domain of Neptune.

As they cuddled beneath the blankets in the aftermath, which Soul was wont to do in the tastes of a certain cuddle-bugged meister, he made her vow to never. Ever. EVER. Upon pain of her mother's honor. Let slip one inkling of a detail about the night's events. Or the many, many sounds he could make, along with the respective methods of getting them out of him.

She agreed. Until Blair suddenly appeared in the room, and blackmailed Soul into being her personal house slave for a month. After he recovered, of course. Apparently, she'd been hiding under the bed the entire time, sleeping snugly in a pile of dirty shirts and underwear. With a CHOP! to the cranium, Maka painfully reminded her weapon that doing laundry once in a while might be a good idea. For her sake, as well as his.

* * *

**c h a o s v i p e r . t u m b l r . c o m**

Come stalk me and I might reciprocate!


End file.
